


The sun will come up tomorrow

by SpicyBiscuit



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Gen, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, I'm Sorry, Overdosing, Season/Series 02, Sleeping Pills, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Van Dahl Mansion, You can decide if he survives or not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25724035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyBiscuit/pseuds/SpicyBiscuit
Summary: "I beg of you, my son. Never give in to the pain as he did. You are loved, and you are not alone. And the sun will come up tomorrow" Is what his father had had said before his death.Oswald wanted to stay strong, but after his step-family grew cold and distant once his father died, he wanted nothing more than to reunite with his parents. He wasn't wanted here or anywhere, he knew that now. At least in death he'd be with those who loved him.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot & Elijah Van Dahl, Oswald Cobblepot & Gertrud Kapelput, Oswald Cobblepot & Gertrud Kapelput & Elijah Van Dahl
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	The sun will come up tomorrow

It wasn't hard to feel alone in these last few weeks since his father's death. Oswald's step-family had immediately gone cold, treating him more like a pest than family, their previous acceptance long gone as if it had never really existed. He often wondered how he hadn't seen it before. Surely he would've noticed the mask they put on to play their role, hiding away their hatred for him. But he hadn't. Perhaps it was his desperation for a family that blinded him, or perhaps they just were good actors. 

Once the funeral had ended, Oswald begged them to let him stay. He wanted to hold onto them, he wanted to stay at his Father's house. At this point, he didn't care that they were ignoring him, and giving him distasteful looks. He just didn't want to be alone again. Grace had offered the maid's position and he accepted, however he quickly realised it was more along the lines of a servant than a maid. They treated the previous maid, Iren, far better than they treated him, which was rather surprising since he knew how poorly Grace treated her. She had told him before that him and Elijah were the nicest people in the household, and although she didn't outright say the step-family were horrible, Oswald could look back and realise that's what she meant.

It started small, but each day they treated him worse, tormenting him in every way imaginable. Knocking things over, making a mess after he tidied, frequently insulting his late mother and his cooking, and always making him feel like he wasn't good enough. Oswald knew he wasn't the best cook, but he wasn't terrible. And yet, his so called family acted like he had never cooked once in his life. He began doubting himself for a lot of things, especially after he was told he wasn't doing a good job. Maybe they were right and his cooking was bad, and maybe he just wasn't good at cleaning. But it still hurt. Hugo had said his life would be better now he repented, but he just felt miserable. His other self wouldn't have allowed this treatment...but he wasn't that man anymore. He had to remember his therapy, and continue on the path of good like he was told to do.

But it was growing harder each day as loneliness took over. Everything was worse than it was when he went to Arkham. He had nobody, and now he had no purpose. Even his only friend had abandoned him. As soon as he noticed Oswald had changed, he just kicked him out of his apartment with hardly any apology. Ed was all he had at that point, but he had cast him aside. No one wanted him around, he knew that now. Even after repenting and becoming a better man, he was still the outcast, the person no one wanted to be around. Why didn't anything ever change? It had been like this all his life.

It was as if the world hated him. Every time he found happiness, something else went wrong and tore it from him in the worst way possible. He was now orphaned, alone, and drifting further into his dark impulses. He had these thoughts before, mainly in his years leading up to adulthood. Life just didn't feel worth living for most of his years, and the only thing keeping him alive was his mother. He couldn't do that to her, no matter how much he despised his life. But now she was gone, and so was his father there was no one else to live for, and now he had turned away from crime there was no purpose to his life. He spent years dreaming about being king, but now that was out of the picture there was no other goal. And Living as a servant was hardly something to live for. He suspected his step-family would be happy if he was out of their lives, and he knew Gotham would never accept him even now, so it would be doing everyone a favour.

Who would miss him anyway? No friends, no parents. He had no one. 

He thought about how he would do it. There were no guns in the house, and after his therapy he wasn't keen on seeing blood. He didn't know how to tie a knot and drowning didn't sound nice, so that was out of the question too. In the end, Oswald had found the various pill bottles belonging to his father in one of the cupboards one day when he was cleaning. He heard overdosing was a peaceful option, like falling asleep. It would have to do. 

It took him a day after choosing the pills to go through with his attempt. He had done his chores, served his step-family, and cleaned up the house as best he could once they had gone to sleep. Then, he took the pills from the cupboard and got a glass of water, walked to his room, then tried to clear his head as he stared down at the container. He had faced death so many times during his life, but now he knew that this was it he was nervous. Before, he wanted to go out fighting, but now he just wanted to go with least pain as possible. He hadn't written a note since he knew no one would care why he had done it, and there was no one to say goodbye to. 

Oswald sat on his bed, leant back against the head rest as he stared at the container for several minutes, before opening the cap and grabbing the glass. He tipped some out and swallowed them down, before repeating until the bottle was empty. Then, he layed down on his back and tried to relax as much as possible. His father's voice echoed through his mind, one phrase in particular. It was what he told Oswald minutes before his death after telling him about the suicidal tendencies their family had. That made a lot more sense now. Oswald felt this way, his grandfather felt this way, and probably other family members before that. It made him wonder if his father was ever in the same position, and how he was able to fight away the demons. 

_I beg of you, my son. Never give in to the pain as he did. You are loved, and you are not alone. And the sun will come up tomorrow._

"I'm sorry, father" Oswald mumbled, tears falling down his face as he stared at the ceiling. He had broken that promise. The pain and loneliness was too much to handle, and he wanted nothing more than to reunite with his parents. They were the only ones who ever truly loved him. He shut his eyes and waited for the pills to take effect, listening as nothing but silence surrounded him. 

Maybe it was a few minutes, maybe it was longer, before the air seemed to shift in the room. It was a familiar sensation, yet one that felt strange. A chill ran through the room as the foot of the bed dipped like someone had sat down. Then, Oswald felt a hand on his leg. He opened his eyes, and saw his father sat there. His figure was transparent, but Oswald could see the sadness in his eyes as he looked at him. 

"My boy, there is still so much for you to do. It's not your time yet"

"I want to be with you and mother...I have no place here anymore" He mumbled, a sudden wave of sadness rushing through him, "I don't know if I can make it without you" 

"You can still do incredible things. I can see the person you can still become. You're intelligent, ambitious, and you're my son, so I know you will help our city. Gotham needs you" His father moved closer and cupped his face in his hands, "It may seem like you're alone, and that no one likes you, but that's not true. You are never alone, we are always by your side no matter what. Even when you can't see us. Never forget that" 

Oswald let out a sob, moving his hands to touch his fathers. But despite the firm, cold hands he could feel, he could not touch them. "I miss you so much" 

"I know...I know. But you still have a whole life to live. You'll find love, you'll do great things, and when the time eventually comes we will be waiting for you. But for now, you need to keep breathing. We love you, son. Do the right thing" 

Something shifted inside Oswald. It was as if he had suddenly clicked and realised what he had done, and panic started to set in. He grabbed his phone from the side, shakily pressing the numbers in and pressed it to his ear as he waited.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Um, hi...I um, I swallowed some sleeping pills. Lots of pills, please help" 

There was a pause on the other end, before she spoke again, "How many?"

"I-I'm not sure, I just took everything left in the bottle but there was still a lot of them" It was slowly creeping up on him, but Oswald was starting to feel the effects kick in, and it was only making him more anxious. "Please help" 

"Ok sir. What's your name?"

"Oswald"

"Alright, Oswald I need you to try and stay calm" Her voice was soft. It almost reminded him of his mother, "What's your current address?"

"The Van Dahl mansion" 

"Is the front door unlocked?"

Oswald sniffed and shifted into a sitting position, his limbs starting to feel numb and achy, his head growing lighter, "N-no. I know I locked it" 

"Can you go and unlock it? The paramedics will need to get to you, and they will need the pill bottle to know what you took. Can you do that for me?" 

His eyes stung with tears as he pushed himself to his feet, wobbling as the strange feeling took over him. He pocketed the bottle, limping over to the door, stumbling and leaning against the wall as he tried to stay up. Anxiety and nausea rose in his chest as he slowly made his way to the stairs, using anything and everything he could as support, and gripped the banister as he descended. His legs wobbled with each step, threatening to give out. His bad leg protested, making it even harder to stay balanced. When he finally made it to the door, he unlocked it and stepped outside, finally collapsing onto the stone steps beneath him and started crying. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. It wasn't supposed to be this scary. This was the complete opposite of how he wanted his final moments to go.

"It's unlocked"

"Good. Stay on the phone with me Oswald, try to stay awake. An ambulance will be there shortly" 

The effects were growing with each second, and Oswald's distress was becoming more and more evident in his voice. He felt a pain in his stomach, one crossed between a cramp and the nauseating sensation you feel before vomiting. He layed down on his side curling up. 

"Please hurry, I'm scared" He cried softly, resting his head against the cold stone beneath him, "I'm scared, please. I don't want to die" 

"It's ok, Oswald. Everything will be ok" She responded, but he didn't believe her. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." He whispered, dissolving into distressed sobs and whimpers of pain. No matter how much she tried to reassure him on the other end of the phone, Oswald was beginning to realise he may not make it. It was getting harder to stay awake, and the mansion was so far from the nearest hospital. Would they get here? Was this his punishment for all the bad things he had done as The Penguin? His hand dropped away from his ear, and he wearily began singing his lullaby in a last attempt at comfort. Extreme drowsiness was consuming him, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could stay awake.

He felt a hand on his head, soft fingers raking through his hair and a gentle hum filled his ears matching his own singing. A tired smile grew on his face, recognising the sweet perfume, the touch, the voice. It was her. He kept singing with her, shutting his eyes as he focused on her voice and touch, eventually smelling his father's cologne too. Panic began to fade with the numbing sensation running through his body, but knowing his parents were with him in what could be his last moments was soothing. 

He was sorry for all he had done, all the pain he had caused when he was The Penguin. He was sorry for killing people and risking other's lives. He was sorry for not treating others kindly like his mother had taught him, and he was sorry for not treating those he considered friends right. But most of all, he was sorry for disappointing his parents in a foolish attempt to end his life. If he survived, he would live each day for them, and dedicated to becoming a better man. The man his mother hoped he'd grow up to be. A man as kind and generous as his father. 

"I love you mama. I love you father..." He yawned, fighting to stay awake as he heard sirens in the near distance. So close, yet so far.

"Én is szeretet, kicsi madár" Gertrud responded in a gentle tone as she continued to stroke his hair in the way she did when he was a boy. Back when life was better, and he had a home to go to. When he had people who loved him.

It was Comforting.

So comforting...

**Author's Note:**

> Én is szeretet, kicsi madár - I love you too, little bird.


End file.
